


What Friends are For

by Anonymous



Category: The Physician (2013)
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Drunkenness, Extremely Dubious Consent, Face Slapping, First Time Bottoming, M/M, Manipulation, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:09:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26324680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: “I should get back,” Rob murmurs, turning in the Shah’s grip to look back towards the main entrance.  He doesn’t know where his friends went, wonders dully if they left him.He’s spun around sharply, pulled firmly against the Shah’s body and dragged along, through the doorway into a hallway.“No need, my friend.  You can stay here.  We should get to know each other better now, don’t you think?”---Or, Rob learns that the Shah's plans for the friendship are not entirely pure.
Relationships: Shah Ala ad-Daula/Rob Cole
Comments: 3
Kudos: 16
Collections: anonymous





	What Friends are For

Rob Cole is not in the mood for a celebration. He keeps his head bowed, eyes down as he files into the royal palace along with his fellow students and the hakims. He can hear their exclamations of wonder and awe as they walk through the grand halls and take in the splendor of the palace. He doesn’t look up. He’s seen it all before, and he’s seen the darkness that the opulence hides—a headless body, blood dripping down stairs, a man willing to risk thousands of lifes for his own stubborn pride. No, Rob can’t quite find it in himself to be impressed. Not anymore.

All he feels when he walks in the doors and through the halls now is a persistent flicker of fear that burns in his chest. He knows the power the Shah holds over every single person in his city. Having the attention of a man with that sort of power—the literal power of life or death—is unnerving, especially since Rob knows first hand how willing the Shah is to wield that power when he is displeased.

The group of healers files into the throne room, forming neat rows and bowing before their king. Rob finds himself in the front row, of course, and he can feel the weight of the Shah’s gaze on him more than once, even with his head pressed to the floor. It’s a relief when the festivities begin, when the Shah’s courtiers and the serving girls begin to weave their way in through the rows of honored guests, offering their congratulations and thanks, offering refreshments and other enjoyments. Rob slips away as quickly as he’s able, politely refusing what the girls have to offer as he finds his way outside to the balcony. He sucks in a deep breath, feeling like he can breathe freely for the first time since arriving at the palace, no longer suffocated under the weight of all the building represents. 

He stares out over the city, inhaling the rich scent of evening meals being prepared, the smells being carried up on tendrils of smoke from hundreds of cooking fires, and his mind begins to drift. The events of the last several days, weeks even, begin to wash over him in wave after wave of memory and emotion. Mostly bad. Some, one in particular, good. He lets himself feel the grief of losing so many, of losing Karim, and the fear of nearly losing Rebecca. Thinking of her helps to dissipate the grief, and he almost smiles, though even his memories of her, of being _with_ her, are tainted with guilt and more fear. It had been foolish, rash, _wonderful._ He loves her deeply, and the pain of knowing he can’t have her—that she’s stuck with a husband who sees her as a trophy, who left her to die—leaves a dull ache in his chest.

Of all the people he’d thought might bother to search him out, the Shah himself is the last person he expects to come join him on the balcony.

Rob turns to greet him slowly, head lowered, murmuring one of the man’s many honorifics as the king approaches. He doesn’t have a response to give him, afraid that if he speaks he’ll reveal how angry he is at the man, how much he blames him for the hundreds of deaths. He raises his eyes, feeling numb, uncaring of the consequences as he stares silently ahead, and lets the other man read his answer in his face. The Shah is frighteningly perceptive, and Rob can see that he understands, and silently accepts. He can’t leave the Shah’s presence without being dismissed, especially now that the other man has pulled him into this one-sided conversation. He listens in silence as the king talks about his childhood, the things he’d been forced to endure, to learn and to unlearn. It’s an explanation, and in a way, an apology. Rob finds some of his anger towards the man fading. In many ways, the Shah cannot help who he is, who he has been made to be. 

When the Shah declares himself Rob’s new friend, he can do nothing but accept it as fact. He cannot refuse the man’s offer, just like he can’t refuse when he pulls him back into the party with a firm hand wrapped around his shoulder. He cannot refuse when he’s offered wine once again, this time not from the tray of a serving girl, but from the hand of the Shah himself. Rob drinks, feels the effects of the alcohol begin to work their way through his body, and he finds himself relaxing and losing himself in the revelry of the celebration, unaware of the way the Shah lingers near him, touches him, watches him, waits for him.

The Shah looks out over the crowd filling his throne room, and finds his eyes being drawn again and again to one person. He’s nothing but a peasant boy, a foreigner, and yet the Shah can’t stop thinking about him, watching him, wanting him. There’s something about Jesse Ben Benjamin that makes the Shah _feel_ in a way he hasn’t in decades. He doesn’t like it. Jesse dares to challenge him, question him, stand up to him. The boy is bold and blunt, despite the fear the Shah sees in his eyes when he dares to speak freely. But, clearly the fear is not enough to overcome the defiance, something the Shah has determined to change. The fire in Jesse’s eyes both excites and infuriates the Shah, and he can no longer resist the urge to do something about it.

He realizes with an annoyed huff that, as he’d been musing, Jesse had slipped out of the hall. He pushes himself up to his feet and makes his way down to mingle with his guests, and find his prey. 

It takes him longer than he’d like to hunt the other man down. He’s got half a mind to send his guards looking for him, to have Jesse brought to him, dragged through the crowd and forced to his knees before him, just to remind the boy of his place. But, that would be petty, childish. So instead, he wanders through the crowds, smiling and nodding congenially at his guests, sipping at his wine until finally he spots a lone figure standing out in the dark of the balcony. He recognizes the Englishman immediately, his slight stature and the mess of curls easy to identify even from behind. 

The boy is more subdued than usual, beautiful in his sorrow and silent defiance. A rush of desire courses through the Shah at the thought of driving that defiance from those striking blue eyes, of forcing sounds from those pretty red lips. He has to turn away, moving to look out over his city before he gives himself away. 

The story he tells Jesse is a true one, a concession to the boy’s delicate sensibilities, a lure to make him drop his guard. It works. When he turns back, Jesse’s eyes are no longer quite so angry, though some distrust still lingers there as the Shah approaches. But he speaks, finally, telling his friends' names in that same, soft voice he’d spoken in earlier. The Englishman is a constant puzzle, a paradox, at times hesitant and appropriately reverent, yet unafraid to speak freely in the Shah’s presence. He’s infuriating, and irresistible. The Shah guides him back into the party with a firm hand, offers him wine—the strongest he has—and settles in to wait.

Rob doesn’t mean to get drunk. He doesn’t even remember drinking that much, but the wine is good, and strong, and once he starts, once the memories start to fade, the pain starts to numb, he can’t stop. It feels too good _not_ to feel. Maybe the Shah’s father was on to something… 

The party is winding down, the crowd growing smaller and smaller as the hour grows later and later, creeping past late night into early morning by the time he thinks that perhaps it’s time for him to leave, too. He’s making his way, unsteadily, towards the door when a hand wraps firmly around his arm, and he’s pulled back, stumbling and falling against a firm body. 

“Jesse, join me,” the Shah murmurs into his ear, voice low, deep. Rob can feel the tickle of the other man’s breath against his face, and the sensation makes him shiver. The Shah chuckles, puffing more breath against his cheek. 

“Where?” Rob manages to ask, not that it matters, not that he has a say.

The Shah throws his other arm over Rob’s shoulder, their bodies pressed together from shoulder to hip, and he pulls Rob forward, urging him to start walking, leading him with his grip on shoulder and bicep, towards a door that Rob knows is not an exit. Rob moves forward on unsteady feet, his mind working sluggishly to think of what the Shah could want of him, now. 

“I should get back,” Rob murmurs, turning in the Shah’s grip to look back towards the main entrance. He doesn’t know where his friends went, wonders dully if they left him.

He’s spun around sharply, pulled firmly against the Shah’s body and dragged along, through the doorway into a hallway.

“No need, my friend. You can stay here. We should get to know each other better now, don’t you think?”

“Now?” Rob echos, looking up at the Shah’s face for some hint as to what it is he’s playing at. 

The Shah looks down, meeting his eyes, and there’s a spark in his gaze that Rob can’t quite place, an eagerness that he doesn’t understand. Then, he’s leading Rob through another door and closing it behind them.

Rob barely has time to take in the room—a bedroom, as opulent and overdone as the rest of the palace—before he’s being led forward once more, further into the room, towards…

The bed. He hesitates, tripping over his own feet as he tries to stop even as the Shah urges him forward. This is… he shouldn’t be here, doesn’t want to…

“Not so defiant now, are you, little hakim?” the Shah murmurs, shoving Rob the last few feet towards the bed. 

Rob stumbles and falls against the mattress, looking back over his shoulder in shock, to where the Shah stands, watching him with eyes narrowed. 

“Strip,” the Shah orders, crossing his arms as he looks down at him.

“ _What_?” Rob gasps, eyes growing wide. “S-son of the State, no! I don’t—”

The Shah’s face twists in sudden rage, and he surges forward, drawing his sword from the scabbard at his belt and swinging the blade up, faster than Rob’s wine-addled brain can track, bringing the point to rest at the hollow of Rob’s throat. Rob scrambles backwards, feet slipping on the smooth stone floor, arms uncooperative, leaving him sprawled on the bed. The Shah simply follows him with the blade, pinning him down to the mattress.

“Do as I say, Jesse. Or I will cut your clothes from your body, and send you home in the rags when I am through with you,” the Shah threatens, dragging the tip of the sword down along the front of Rob’s chest in demonstration. The razor sharp blade catches here and there on stray threads, easily cutting small holes in the fabric, a show of just how simple it would be for the Shah to carry out his threat.

Rob nods numbly, and pushes himself slowly into a sitting position, keeping his eyes on the sword that still lingers only inches from his body. He can’t think straight, can barely stand, his world still spinning, and each time he tries to think of the words he needs to beg the Shah for mercy, his thoughts unravel and he’s left grasping at the threads of his thoughts, unable to piece them together. Rob pushes himself up to stand on unsteady feet, and begins to strip out of his robes mechanically, hands trembling. 

The Shah watches as inch by inch more of the Englishman’s body is revealed to him. It’s not often that the Shah finds himself desiring another man, but Jesse possess an undeniable, fey-like beauty in his features and the form of his body. The Shah takes in the sight before him slowly, from the delicate sweep of collarbones, down the thin chest, the light smattering of hair thickening as his eyes trail lower, to Jesse’s soft cock—something the Shah determines to change before long—down the lines of thighs and calves. 

Once undressed, Rob clutches the bundle of fabric to his body, trying to cover himself as best he can, but the Shah reaches forward and rips the clothes from his hands, throwing them to the floor behind him, leaving Rob bare before him once more. Rob sways, grunting as the forcefulness with which the Shah pulls the robes from his arms enough to send him tipping forward. The Shah catches him, wrapping an arm around his naked waist and tugging Rob in close to his own body, holding him upright. The layers of the Shah’s robes do little to hide his hardness, his intentions clear as he rubs himself against Rob, who whimpers in response, distantly aware of what’s to come but unable to do anything about it. The Shah snakes the fingers of his free hand up into Rob’s hair, grasping a handful of curls and tugging his head back. Rob throws his hands up instinctively to grab hold of the Shah’s shoulders as his head is forced backwards, yanking him off balance.

Rob groans at the sharp pain in his scalp as the Shah tugs at his hair, closing his eyes as a wave of dizziness overtakes him. He’s still struggling to fight through the muddled haze filling his head and making the world spin, when he feels warm, wet lips pressing against his neck. The Shah kisses his way along Rob’s throat and nips at his jaw before pressing his lips against Rob’s. Rob gasps in surprise, and the Shah takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, sliding his tongue inside to plunder Rob’s mouth. Rob flinches away, though the fingers twisted in his curls prevent him from going far, and slams his palms against the Shah’s shoulders, pushing against him with what little force he can muster, bent half backwards as he is. 

Without warning, the Shah releases his hold on Rob’s body, and Rob falls back onto the bed with a shriek, his head spinning at the sudden movement as he bounces on the mattress. He struggles to push himself up onto his arms, and opens his mouth to beg the Shah to let him go, but he isn’t fast enough. The Shah swings his arm down, striking Rob hard across the cheek with the flat of his palm and sending him sprawling across the bed with a hiss of pain. Rob brings his hand up to his burning cheek in surprise, tears welling in his eyes as he looks up at the Shah.

“Please, my lord. Please, let me go,” he begs, drawing his legs in close to his body in an attempt to protect himself. 

The Shah sneers down at him, and begins to strip off his own robes, throwing them to the floor as well. Rob pales, turning and starting to crawl across the bed in a desperate attempt to put some distance between himself and the other man. He doesn’t make it far. With a grip that feels strong as a vice, the Shah wraps a hand around Rob’s ankle and yanks him back across the bed. Rob kicks out with his free leg instinctively, unthinkingly, and catches the Shah in the meat of his thigh, just above his knee. The Shah grunts, twisting away from the blow easily. Even so, Rob freezes in fear as he realizes what he’s done. He turns back towards the Shah, eyes wide with terror at having struck the man who holds his life in his hands.

“My- my lord. I’m sorry, please. Please, I just—” Rob pleads desperately.

The Shah lashes out, striking Rob across the face once more, hard enough that Rob sees stars as he's knocked back down onto the bed once more with a pitiful cry. Within seconds the Shah is looming over him, now naked as well. He flips Rob onto his front easily before straddling him and dropping his weight down onto the back of Rob’s thighs. A heavy hand wraps around the nape of Rob’s neck, holding his upper body in place.

The Shah gives him a shake, like a disobedient dog, before snarling into his ear, “Strike me again, and I’ll slit your throat." He leans his weight forward, forcing Rob’s face further down into the sheets, the pressure against Rob’s neck turning painful and cutting off his airflow. 

Rob wheezes, tries to nod, to show his understanding. The Shah holds him there for several long moments anyways, until Rob starts to jerk and shudder in panic beneath him, hands grasping uselessly at the sheets as he wheezes in his struggle to take in a breath. Finally, he’s released, free to turn his head and suck in desperate gulps of fresh air. 

The Shah rubs circles into his back as he gasps, as if to soothe him.

"You must know by now, little hakim, what I want from you, and that you cannot refuse me."

Rob shudders at the words, a choked sob working its way free from his lips, tears of fear and frustration welling up and threatening to fall. 

"You do have a choice, though," the Shah continues, his voice gentle, conciliatory. "Let me take you as I please without fighting, and I swear to you I will make it as easy for you as I can. But, if you continue to fight me, I make no such promises." His voice takes on a hard edge as he finishes speaking, his hand sliding up to wrap loosely around Rob's neck once more in a clear reminder of his power. "What will it be, Jesse? I promise, I take care of my friends, when they are good to me as well. You may even enjoy it, if you let yourself."

He slides his hand gently down the length of Rob’s spine, pausing just above the swell of his ass, settling his fingers over the curve of Rob's waist and squeezing.

Rob shivers beneath the touch, and he knows that he really has no choice at all. The Shah is an imposing man, and Rob would be no match for him, even if he weren't still fighting the effects of the wine he’d drunk that night. The Shah could end Rob's life without a thought, and no one would question it. Rob whines piteously as the reality of the situation sets in, and he accepts his fate.

"I won't fight," he whispers. "But, please, Oh Protector of the People, I beg you not to do this. I-I don't want this." Rob sucks in a breath, his final appeal to the Shah’s duty as ruler the only thing he can think to say to halt the man’s advances.

"Jesse, your desires are irrelevant," the Shah whispers back. He scrapes his nails across Rob’s skin, from his hip down, across his buttocks. He squeezes the muscle there, and Rob nearly flinches away, but he stops himself, remembering the Shah’s words. “Have you ever been with a man, Jesse?” the Shah asks, now cupping both hands around his cheeks, squeezing and spreading them.

“N-no.”

“I don’t usually take my pleasure from men, but occasionally, one will catch my eye. Like you did, Jesse.” 

As the Shah speaks, he slips a finger between his cheeks and rubs at the tight furl of muscle that protects Rob’s entrance. Rob gasps at the sensation, tensing beneath the touch. He knows, of course, how men lay together, and yet, to feel the touch of another against such a private place… 

The Shah lifts himself off of Rob then, though he keeps a hand resting on his ass. “Don’t move. If you do, I’ll lash you to the bed and keep you here till I tire of you.” He speaks the words lightly, conversationally, as if he isn’t threatening to keep Rob as some sort of bed slave. 

Rob nods. He has no doubt the Shah will do as he says, and remains unmoving even when the Shah leaves the bed and walks away. He isn’t gone long, and Rob shudders as the Shah kneels over him once more, grabbing him and spreading his cheeks. This time, when he presses a finger against Rob’s hole, it’s slick with some sort of oil. Rob yelps, and can’t help the way his hips hitch away as the Shah presses his finger inside of him.

“This will help ease the way,” the Shah explains, voice thick with lust. Jesse is incredibly tight around his finger, and while the Shah is willing to give the boy some relief, he knows he won’t be able to wait long before he sinks himself into the tight heat of his body.

The Shah can hear the small hitches in the boy’s breath as his works his finger in and out of his body, watches as Jesse’s hands clench and unclench reflexively in the sheets, as his shoulders and leg muscles tense as he fights the urge to move. It’s beautiful to see him so obedient, and if not eager, at least willing. Not that it matters to the Shah, he would have qualms about breaking the boy in another way. If the threats had not been enough, he would have taken him by force. But, he prefers it this way. Prefers to be able to enjoy himself, to take his time and savor the body beneath him. While there is a certain thrill to the struggle, it’s often over far too soon. 

Rob cries out as a second finger is pressed into him alongside the first. There’s more oil, and he can feel himself becoming slick, loose. He tries to relax his body around the intrusion, knowing that fighting will only make it hurt more. The Shah begins to scissor his fingers as he draws them out, stretching the tight ring of muscle, urging Rob’s body to loosen. He quickens the pace, thrusting his fingers in and out faster and faster, and though the feeling is strange, and foreign, Rob’s body begins to react in an unexpected way as the pain fades. Then the Shah’s fingers press up against a spot inside of him that makes him cry out in unexpected pleasure, and he finds himself rutting against the sheets, seeking out friction for his half-hard cock, and suddenly desperate for the Shah’s touch to come up against that spot inside of him once more.

“ _Mmm,_ yes. See, little hakim, I told you I would take care of you,” the Shah murmurs as he watches Jesse squirm on his fingers. The boy is nearly ready, nearly loose enough, and already feeling the pleasure that can be had from the press of something inside of him. The Shah doesn’t bother to seek out that spot again, though he seems to find it anyways with a few more thrusts, if the way Jesse moans and writhes is any indication.

“What, what is… oh, _please_ ,” the boy whines, looking back to meet his eyes for the first time since he’d started to open him up. The Shah smirks down at him, and rather than reply, he slips his fingers free of Jesse’s body completely, chuckling darkly at the boy’s huff of frustration, and the way he continues to grind his hips against the mattress. He may not want it, but it’s clear the boy is unable to deny the reactions of his body to the stimulation he’s receiving.

The Shah dribbles more oil onto his own palm and fists himself, grunting in pleasure at the slick glide of his palm along his shaft, eager for _more._

“Are you ready, Jesse?” the Shah hisses as he presses the tip of his cock against Rob’s loosened hole.

Rob tenses, panic flaring in his chest. “No, no, no, _please…_ my lord, please…” he begs, though he remains still, his words the only indication of his non-consent. He knows that fighting is futile, and even tries to force himself to relax, though it’s nearly impossible to ignore the sharp pain that the first press of the Shah’s cock into his body brings. He sobs, burying his face in the sheets to hide his tears of pain and shame from the man above him.

“Breathe, boy,” the Shah hisses. He takes hold of the boy's hips, holding him in place as he pulls back, nearly all the way, before pressing back in, further than the last time. 

Again and again, he works his way deeper into Rob’s passage, and Rob works to time his breaths with the thrusts, whimpering and moaning as his body slowly opens to the Shah. It _hurts,_ a sharp burning pain, though the burn seems to fade with each thrust as his body relaxes more and more. 

It isn’t long before the Shah is fully seated, his hips pressed flush against Rob’s ass. He groans, grinding against Rob. “You feel incredible, little hakim. So tight and hot. Better than a woman.” He releases his grip on one of Rob’s hips and slides it up his back, wrapping it around his shoulder. He tugs, pulling Rob’s hips back and his shoulder up, urging him into a kneeling position.

“Up, on your knees. Brace yourself on the wall,” the Shah orders, easily lifting Rob into place.

Rob complies, hissing as the motion causes the Shah to shift inside of him. The Shah presses against him with his hips as he moves him closer to the wall, and the motion causes him to brush against that same spot inside of Rob that feels so inexplicably _good_. Rob cries out as the shock of pleasure courses through his entire body, makes him weak. He falls forward, barely catching himself on the wall.

The Shah holds Rob in place with strong hands wrapped around his hips, and leans in to place his lips against Rob’s ear.

“I’m going to take you now, Jesse,” he whispers before biting down on the lobe of Rob’s ear.

Rob cries out, the sound turning to a long, drawn out whine as the Shah begins to fuck him. He gasps and groans, each thrust of the Shah’s cock inside of his body forcing a sound from his lips. It hurts, at first, the quick, deep thrusts splitting him open and stretching him wider than he ever thought possible. The Shah is grunting behind him as he pounds into him, taking his pleasure from Rob’s body without care to Rob’s own discomfort. 

The Shah shifts behind him, changing to a position that allows him to thrust in even deeper, and has him slamming into that spot inside of him with each thrust. Rob gasps, back arching as pleasure sparks along his spine, over and over as his own arousal starts to build, drowning out the pain, leaving his own cock hard and straining, much to his own surprise.

“Oh, _ah,_ _ah_ , oh, f-fuck,” he moans with each punch of the Shah’s cock against that spot inside of him, no longer feeling as if he has any control over the reactions of his own body.

Despite being focused on his own pleasure, the Shah notices the change in Jesse’s response, the way he begins to move his own hips, the switch from cries of pain and discomfort to cries of pleasure. He leans forward, glancing down the boy’s body to where his now hard cock juts out from his body. 

“Do I feel that good inside of you, Jesse? Are you going to come?”

Jesse drops his head to hang between his shoulders in defeat, and shakes his head emphatically, but the Shah can still see the pleasure etched across his face, the way he bites his lip to try to hold back on his moans of pleasure.

“I think you can,” he presses. “I want to feel it when you do, feel you clench around me so beautifully. Come on, Jesse. Give in for me.” He reaches around to wrap his hand around the boy’s cock and starts to stroke him quickly. Jesse jerks in his grip, thrusting into his fist mindlessly with a cry of pleasure. 

“Please, please, I don’t, I _can’t_ ,” the boy whimpers, and yet his body betrays him as he works himself between the cock buried in his ass and the fist wrapped tight around his cock. 

The Shah doesn’t relent, positive that he can make the boy come before he does, and intent on fucking him through it when he does. On a whim, the Shah reaches across the boy’s chest and rubs the pad of his thumb against a nipple. The reaction is immediate. Jesse throws his head back, body arching as he moans, deep and long.

“Sensitive, are we?” the Shah remarks, pleased by the response. He doesn’t care about the boy’s pleasure, but, watching him come undone beneath his hands is incredibly arousing. The sounds he’s making, the clench of his body as his arousal builds, is nearly enough to send the Shah over the edge, but he’s determined not to finish, yet.

Rob feels completely overwhelmed by the pleasure he feels. It’s so unexpected, so all-consuming, and he’s unable to fight it. He knows, in the back of his mind, that he doesn't want this, and yet his body has betrayed his mind, and is chasing after every pleasurable touch the Shah gives him.

The Shah’s hands on his body urge him on towards his inevitable orgasm, and Rob can do nothing but give in to the feelings. He nearly comes undone when the Shah begins teasing at his nipples, each touch and tug at the sensitive nubs sending sparks of pleasure flickering across his nerve endings, leaving him breathless and bringing him right to the edge, so close to his completion. Pleasure pools and builds low in his belly, and the Shah continues to tease him, and it’s all too much, especially when he begins nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin of Rob’s neck. Throughout it all the Shah continues to pound into him, hard and fast. Rob cries out with each thrust, desperate gasps of _ah, ah, ah_ spilling freely from his lips as he struggles to hold himself up, writhing beneath the Shah’s onslaught.

The Shah releases his grip on Rob’s cock, and Rob nearly sobs at the loss. He’s so very close, right on the edge of completion, he _needs_ it.

“Touch yourself, come for me,” the Shah hisses into his ear, and then he’s taking hold of Rob’s hips and fucking into him with abandon, clearly ready to finish, himself.

Rob obeys. He’s too close not too, too far gone to care about what he’s giving into, anymore. He just. Needs. To come.

He brings himself off in a matter of moments, crying out as his cock jerks and spurts come across the wall in front of him. The Shah continues to fuck him through his orgasm, moaning obscenely. He reaches up to bury a hand in Rob’s hair and jerks him back, ignoring Rob’s hiss of pain, and thrusts himself deep inside one last time, biting down on Rob’s shoulder as he does. Rob cries out at the pain, chest heaving as he recovers from his own orgasm. The Shah moans against his skin as he empties himself inside of him.

When he finally pulls away, Rob collapses down onto the bed, completely spent. His mind is racing as he struggles to come to terms with everything that just happened. The Shah sinks down to the bed beside him, panting. 

“Oh, Jesse. You’re exquisite. I think we will be very, very good friends,” he says between breaths.

Rob squeezes his eyes closed as tears begin to well, reality setting in. He chokes back a sob when the Shah slides his hand along his body, whimpering when he presses a finger idly inside of him once more, humming softly before he pulls away, turning his back to Rob.

“You may go,” he says, yawning.

“W-what?” Rob stutters, shocked by the suddenness of the dismissal.

“Leave me, go back to your madrasa and your master. But know this, little hakim.” The Shah rolls over once more, and reaches out to grasp Rob’s chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing him to meet his steely gaze. “When I summon you again, you had better come. Or I will send my guards for you, and have them drag you to me through the streets, naked.”

Rob whimpers, tears falling freely, but he nods.

“Good. Now go.”

Rob does, gathering his robes from the floor and dressing as quickly as he can before fleeing, refusing to think that he’ll be back here again before long.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm planning on writing a follow up to this, some comfort after the hurt. But I'm not sure when I'll be able to get to that, so I'm marking it complete for now.


End file.
